Your opinion of “Argylle” may vary from scene to scene, revelation to revelation.

And, of course, it helps if you’re a cat person.

The bloated spy comedy starts strong and features a mostly nimble cast, but director Matthew Vaughn can’t leave well enough alone.

What might have been a breezy romp that doubled as an empowerment tale becomes a film you just wish would end.

Please.

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“Argylle” opens with a spectacular set piece featuring Argylle (Henry Cavill), a super spy in the James Bond mold. He escapes a near-death encounter, rides a motorized cart over a hilltop and grabs the assassin who set him up.

It’s all from the mind of Elly Conway (Bryce Dallas Howard), a spy novelist whose idea of adventure is spending the night alone with her loyal, mostly CGI cat. We see her novels spring to life, a clever device letting us watch Cavill, co-star John Cena (barely used) and even Dua Lipa as a mystery woman run through their 007 paces.

Elly’s humdrum life gets upended when her stories grab the attention of a criminal outfit run by Bryan Cranston’s villain. A bearded spy played by the great Sam Rockwell comes to her rescue, but can Elly trust any spy with a license to kill?

Describing “Argylle” in full would fill up too much of your screen. Just know everything we’re told one moment is upended the next. And the next. Screenwriter Jason Fuchs takes care to balance all the reveals and misdirections, but it still leaves the viewer woozy.

Why should we care again?

 

 
 
 
 
 
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That disconnect gets worse as the story marches on. What might have been a frothy lark overstays its welcome well past the two-hour mark.

The running time becomes a character in the film. Another villain, to be more accurate.

Rockwell takes it upon himself to enliven the film’s many dead spots, either with a fanciful jig or just sheer charisma. The screenplay needs every calorie he burns, burdened by action-movie cliches that come off as limp, not meta.

Howard connects with the mousy Elly, but when she’s pressed to save her own skin she’s far less convincing. She’s also replaced by a digital avatar late in the film, a sequence that desperately needed to be trimmed.

And it’s hardly alone.

Cavill is game and stoic, but he doesn’t get enough screen time to register. The same holds true for Samuel L. Jackson, once again coasting on his movie star presence. Can someone write him a three-dimensional role… stat?

Nothing in “Argylle” is meant to be taken seriously, and that escapist glee powers the first act.

The more we know about Elly, the forces aligned against her and her oddball family (Catherine O’Hara clicks as her doting Ma) the less we care about the outcome.

“Argylle,” like Brad Pitt’s “Bullet Train,” doesn’t know know when to quit. Audiences will swallow larger-than-life adventures whole, but you need a beating heart somewhere on screen as our true north.

Mock the “Furious” franchise’s talk of family, but that sentiment grounds the saga’s outlandish tics.

It’s a lesson Vaughn and his “Argylle” collaborators should take to heart.

HiT or Miss: “Argylle” is clever, cute and imaginative, but the story wants us to invest in our heroine’s plight, too. Thanks, but no thanks.

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One of the many problems plaguing woke films is predictability. 

Audiences often know what to expect given how Hollywood progressives view the world.

It’s one reason “Bad Hombres” is both fresh and relentlessly surprising. 

The thriller follows an illegal immigrant who becomes enmeshed in a world of violence and revenge. The film follows essential B-movie beats but upends expectations on more than a few occasions.

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Diego Tinoco stars as Felix, an Ecuadorian who just entered America through the porous southern border. He’s eager to bring his family along with him.

For now, he has to learn how to find work, and fast.

He takes a job digging holes for a local loudmouth (Luke Hemsworth) and his silent partner (Paul Johansson), joining forces with a fellow immigrant named Alfonso (Hemky Madera) in the process. Alfonso has a truck and a surly attitude, but a gig’s a gig.

The assignment proves more treacherous than Felix expected, and suddenly he’s part of a larger, violent game that could end his immigrant dreams in a hurry.

We’ll say no more to let audiences experience the sharp twists on their own. Just know the story expands to include the reliable Thomas Jane as a man with mysterious connections and too little screen time for “Furious” regular Tyrese Gibson.

It’s really about Felix and Alfonso’s survival instincts.

Director John Stalberg, Jr. (“Muzzle“) dabbles in Tarantino-like tones, but he never leans on style over substance. A few sequences are shot from intriguing angles, an approach that draws us in without calling attention to itself.

One scene follows a killer stalking his prey through a small house, but the camera remains still while the monster moves about the rooms. The sounds flesh out what’s happening, but there’s something sinister about not seeing it all go down.

Screenwriters Nick Turner and Rex New have fun with our sensitive age without being preachy or predictable. Hemsworth character isn’t to be trifled with, but he takes great pains not to offend those around him.

It’s a neat tic for a larger-than-life goon.

Turner and New also won’t turn the immigrant characters into noble souls, demanding our sympathy from the jump. Alfonso is willing to bare his teeth as often as necessary. Felix’s pluck is admirable, but his character develops a thicker skin the deeper he drowns in the muck.

“Bad Hombres” is patient to a fault. That means some sequences take time to play out, but we’re so invested in the characters’ journey that we’ll go along with the ride. The rewards are palpable, including several twists you won’t see coming.

Jane’s character may be too connected for the story’s own good, but he brings an earthy spirit to every film he touches. Gibson’s character gets a great introduction that lacks the follow-up it deserves, a victim of the movie’s otherwise crisp run time.

“Bad Hombres” shows the harsh realities behind illegal immigration without judgment. It is what it is, and let the politicians and pundits squabble over the matter. The situation remains ripe for storytellers, at least ones looking well past Hollywood’s conventional wisdom.

HiT or Miss: “Bad Hombres” has a laconic style that takes some getting used to, but the jolts of creative violence make it more than worth your while.

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Meg Ryan deserved better than the reception “What Happens Later” received.

The film hit theaters, oh so briefly, near the end of 2023 and got little press, marketing attention or box office glory.

(This critic attempted to snag a screening link for the film and was ignored. That rarely happens for indie projects)

Ryan, who does double duty as director and star, is synonymous with big-screen romance. Co-star David Duchovny’s comedic chops rarely get a workout. Together, they patch over the story’s flaws and remind us that screen romances don’t start, and end, in your 30s.

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Willa (Ryan) and Bill (Duchovny) seriously dated more than two decades ago, and they have a not-so-meet-cute reunion at a snow-bound airport.

She’s never been married and is still a free spirit in almost every way. He’s stuck in a failing marriage and scrambling to connect with his teen daughter.

The former lovers struggle to connect at first, falling back on the dreaded “small talk.” Soon, thanks to a series of magical flight delays, they rediscover why they worked so well the first time around.

Is it enough to spark a reconciliation?

“What Happens Later” is all talk. Seriously. 

The film’s spare budget is obvious, and so is the story’s theatrical roots. It’s based on the stage play  “Shooting Star” by Steven Dietz, but that production didn’t have stars of this caliber.

Ryan’s Willa gets bogged down in clothes from the Annie Hall collection, but her spirit is impossible to contain. Duchovny’s dry humor is perfect for Bill, a man whose love for rock music is blunted by modern-day anxieties.

The two don’t click immediately on screen. That may be by design, but a swift spark would have helped the film. 

 

 
 
 
 
 
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The film’s threadbare budget isn’t a problem, but it’s still surprising given the talent involved. The airport in question is emptier than any seen since the COVID-19 era, but that, too, is by design.

Director Ryan leans into some magic realism for her tale, meaning the overhead announcements often collide with the actions on screen. Plus, the former lovers see snippets of their courtship in monitors throughout the airport.

Ryan doesn’t handle the fantastical elements nearly as well as the fractured romance in play.

It helps that she’s directing the unofficial queen of screen romance, and Ryan the actress hasn’t lost a step. Her Willa is strong-willed and uncertain, optimistic yet wary of another emotional upper-cut.

Each holds a secret, of course, but the screenplay lets them play out in a satisfying fashion.

The reasons this happy couple splintered offers something for Red State audiences. No spoilers here, but like most successful rom-coms the tale’s traditional trappings are never far from the surface.

Ryan wisely leans into that sentiment, treating it with care, not disdain.

Bill’s eagerness to repair his bond with his daughter similarly speaks to solid, American values. Once again, the screenplay applies humor and tenderness in a near-perfect ratio.

The third act offers something resembling closure, but the will-they or won’t-they metric is partially fumbled. “What Happens Later” must “sell” that question, and it comes up short.

Hollywood rarely focuses on older couples falling in and out of love. When it does, we get movies like “Ticket to Paradise” featuring stars who defy their age.

Ryan and Duchovny aren’t kids anymore, and it shows. Their age is the most compelling element in play, making Ryan’s rom-com return an imperfect treat.

HiT or Miss: “What Happens Later” isn’t a return to rom-com form for star Meg Ryan. Instead, it’s a soulful look at love, loss and the chances for a happier ending.

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Jonathan Glazer’s “The Zone of Interest” begins with a family sitting by a stream, enjoying an idyllic day.

We observe how the family is close-knit, lives in a beautiful home and, in a jarring reveal, that their house is right next to the Auschwitz death camps. We’ve been watching the family of a highly-ranked Nazi and, when he walks out the door in his SS uniform, he’s on his way to instill torture, misery and death to those inside the camp.

We are in the presence of evil.

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Glazer films this with a watchful, painterly eye, as there’s no ironic detachment, little music and very little plot. This is a clinical, observant and slow film, in which the audience gets to share space with a vile man, who we only see when he’s off duty.

He’s played by Christian Friedel and his wife is played by Sandra Huller, both of whom find moments to demonstrate how inwardly vile they are without playing their roles as outright villains.

As we watch the children play, the housekeepers clean up and the meals being prepared, we hear the distant pop of guns being fired and the smokestacks of the camp loosening into the sky. There’s one brief moment where we hear but do not see what goes on in the camp.

Otherwise, this is entirely outside of the death camps, as we only see the rise and practice of Nazism in either a boardroom or the interior of the domestic setting.

A chilling scene depicts a room of Nazis marveling at how the cooling and heating system of the extermination oven in the camp works. Another jolt comes from a quick reveal of a soldier using a garden hose to wash off the blood from the bottom of his boots.

The whole film is like that, suggesting the horrors that are just out of view, as a family lives their lives and never discusses what daddy does for a profession.

The third act takes the focus away from the house, and it’s not as effective. There’s also the final scene, which is bold in conception and offers powerful imagery but still doesn’t work.

FAST FACT: “The Zone of Interest” is based on the 2014 book of the same name by author Martin Amis.

Steven Spielberg had a similar problem with how to properly conclude “Schindler’s List” (1993). How does one end such a harrowing meditation on such a grotesque portion of the 20th century? Neither Spielberg nor Glazer have figured it out for their films.

Nevertheless, in its unsettling depiction of the horrors of WWII, Glazer’s film is unique and worth seeing at least once.

 

 
 
 
 
 
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Glazer’s “Birth” (2004) and “Under the Skin” (2013) were equally challenging, strange in their presentation and worked best for audiences willing to endure a demanding experience. As if the film weren’t already hard to take, Glazer opens and closes the film in total darkness for minutes.

Glazer makes art films, and some of “The Zone of Interest” would work best as an art installation. During many scenes in the first and second act, I found myself staring at the furniture, looking closely at the faces of the family members, and really considering what it must be like to be in a place so wrong, so hideous and yet, so seemingly normal and homey.

The home life of the Nazi and his family isn’t an illusion of normalcy but a hideous example of how he and his brood can disassociate themselves entirely from the crimes taking place over the wall. If you’re willing and interested in gazing at the homelife of a monster, Glazer offers us a you-are-there chance to gaze upon the demons of human history.

Three and a Half Stars

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Ava DuVernay’s “Origin” is an audacious epic about where the root of racism lies, how it has continued to manifest itself for centuries and why we have a responsibility to recognize and not allow it to continue.

Based on “Caste: The Origins of Our Discontent” the 2020 bestselling book by Isabel Wilkerson, this film adaptation stars Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor as Wilkerson and is about the creation of the book and the forming of her thesis.

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The story begins with the killing of Trayvon Martin, though the incident ultimately becomes a smaller part of the narrative’s overall design. Wilkerson is introduced as a Pulitzer Prize-winning writer who is urged by a colleague (an always welcome Blair Underwood) to write about the Martin case.

It spurs Wilkerson to not only dig far beneath the surface of the incident but to investigate the historical connection of how caste systems, ranging from the U.S. to Germany and India, have created environments where outsiders are controlled and deemed lesser than by those around them.

We watch as Wilkerson journeys far outside of her comfort zone to learn the backbone of her thesis (she travels alone to distant lands while her personal life at home is in a fragile state).

I’ve come full circle with how I feel about DuVernay, whose 2014 Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. historical drama, “Selma,” was a masterpiece (and under-promoted by its studio). Showcasing a terrific lead performance by David Oyelowo as Dr King and directed with confidence and fire by DuVernay, it wound up one of the last films to sneak into its calendar year and emerged a potent, engrossing look at its subject.

Unfortunately, DuVernay followed it up with the awful “A Wrinkle in Time” (2018), an oversized failure that just didn’t work.

“Origin” is another massive undertaking, and it certainly works. As a filmmaker, DuVernay has once again put all her cards on the table and made a work that demands to be discussed and pondered.

The temptation I wrestled with for much of the film was to dismiss it as overly didactic and self-congratulatory. “Origin” is a lot to take in and will be too much for some.

Since the film is so dialog and idea driven, I wondered why DuVernay didn’t simply make the subject into a documentary?

Considering DuVernay’s impactful prior documentary “13th”(released in 2018 and exploring prison systems), the format may have provided an easier means of compartmentalizing all of Wilkerson’s insights and discoveries.

In addition to flashbacks portraying key moments from Wilkerson’s life, there’s also scenes depicting segregation in the south, the rise of Nazism in Europe and current human horrors taking place in India.

A lengthy discussion is had comparing the suffering of African-American slaves to Jews during the Holocaust. There’s also a montage with graphic, horrifying reenactments of an African slave ship interspersed with the Holocaust.

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There’s a moment where a woman explains how revealing her name resulted in a painful exchange – why wasn’t this depicted? There are times when the multiple flashbacks look less than vivid reenactments and scenes from movies – a Nazi book burning looks oddly like a similar scene from “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade” (1989).

On the other hand, a sequence involving a little league team finding one of its teammates enduring inexcusable behavior in broad daylight is harrowing.

An inspired touch was having Harvard scholar Dr. Suraj Yengde play himself. The central plotline of Wilkerson’s journey gets a lot of mileage not just from Ellis-Taylor’s impressive performance but from successfully depicting her romance with her husband Brett (a scene-stealing Jon Bernthal).

On the other hand, a single scene with Nick Offerman as a MAGA hat wearing plumber gets points for not going the way one would expect, but does the movie really need it? Isn’t the film already overloaded with provocative topics and material?

As a film exploring the pain inflicted by racism and the hope that a new generation can rise above it, this reminded me a little of Lawrence Kasdan’s insightful, messy “Grand Canyon” (1991).

“Origin” is sometimes like sitting next to a scholar at a coffee shop while they verbalize a lengthy thesis statement. Everything comes together compellingly in the third act, and I concluded the film engrossed and exhausted by what it has to say.

Is it entertaining? Indeed, it is, as well as made with passion and urgency. DuVernay’s film can be frustrating and overwhelming, but I found it a challenge worth taking and discussing at length afterward.

Three Stars

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Erik Bloomquist’s “Founders Day” is a terrible new teen slasher movie, the kind of junk Eli Roth’s “Thanksgiving” successfully lampooned just weeks ago.

Feeling like a middling early-ought horror movie (like “Soul Survivors” or “Halloween Resurrection”) and featuring some of the worst dialog to be heard in a theatrical release, this stinker will be remembered at year’s end, if at all, as one of 2024’s lousiest films.

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A series of murders shakes up close-knit town preparing for a local election. The presence of a serial killer elevates the desperation of the local politicians and the teens who just want to work at a local movie theater, graduate high school and make out atop their least favorite teacher’s desk (you know, like all teenagers).

Playing a high school English instructor (and, apparently, the only teacher in the entire school) is veteran character actor William Russ, who gives, by far, the best performance in this. The rest of the actors are unable to rise above the material, and no one is playing a character with any depth.

It’s not unusual for the audience to root for the killer in films like this. I just wanted the movie to get on with it – the big set pieces are separated by long bouts of melodrama, politicians discussing their campaigns, father/daughter chats, classroom scenes and characters behaving suspiciously to throw off the audience.

It feels like a Lifetime TV movie with violent murder scenes thrown in.

RELATED: ‘TEENAGE SLASHER’ BRINGS THE GORE, NEEDS MORE

The production values are surprisingly strong, serving a screenplay that needed, for starters, a few more drafts before the start of filming. Many scenes just lay there, devoid of life, purpose or enthusiasm.

There’s no political angle explored here: A town politician has a campaign slogan of “consistency,” which amounts to nothing. The masked killer, sporting a Founding Father-style wig and a gavel as a weapon, is flavorless. Imagine “Urban Legend” minus the style, satire and energy and you have this movie.

David Arquette’s killer-in-a-President-Reagan-mask slasher, “The Tripper” (2006), already has this covered.

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Admittedly, there’s a second-act murder that takes place in a movie theater that is nasty enough to merit a cocktail clap from Fangoria subscribers. Likewise, a scene where arguably the most irritating character is vividly sliced into ribbons deserves a mention.

Otherwise, this barely leaves an impression. Even “Sleepaway Camp” had more going for it.

Come to think of it, the movie this resembles the most is Wes Craven’s “My Soul to Take.” Again, I’m not being complimentary.

There’s a campiness here that is odd when it’s unintentional, and later it’s irritating when its clearly on purpose. Characters that are intended to provide comic relief are especially unlikable, while the big dramatic moments feel like send ups of Oscar clips. It would help if this was so-bad-it’s-good, but it’s not.

There are dozens of examples to cite in which characters utter sentences that don’t sound plausible, let alone human. If it turns out Tommy Wiseau was an uncredited script doctor, please remember I was the first to suggest this as a possibility.

The ending is flush with twists, false conclusions and still more false reveals. I can admire an attempt to take the audience off guard and generate surprise, but this is one step too far.

If you think about what we’re finally told about who the killer is and how this individual accomplished what we see, it doesn’t make any sense. Neither do the wrap-up scenes, setting up a follow up that suggests an unearned optimism by the filmmakers.

“Founders Day” forces and wastes its holiday-themed horror angle. I love teen slasher movies, but this one reeks. Perhaps, instead of a sequel, the creators should just plan a remake?

One Star

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Peter Webb’s “Give My Regards to Broad Street” (1984) was seen as a major misstep and commercial setback for its star, writer and producer, Paul McCartney.

In fact, nearly every biography on the former Beatle cites the film as a blunder and describes it as though it were “Cats.” While McCartney’s film may not have given fans and film lovers what they expected (and, to be sure, the film comes up short in several ways), it doesn’t deserve its long-held reputation as a disaster.

Webb directed the film on a $6.8 million budget, though would later state that the result was less a motion picture suitable for theaters than “Paul McCartney’s home movie.”

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McCartney plays himself, a musician whose master recording tapes of a new album have gone missing. A revolving door of characters enter and exit the film, aiding McCartney in his search for what must have been a whopper of a good album.

Along the way, musical numbers break out and they are always a welcome touch, as there’s no suspense or character development.

The title is taken from the Broad Street train station in the city of London – it closed in 1984, to make for Broadgate office development. Or, one could get on the film’s bandwagon of naysayers and declare that even the location of the title failed to withstand the film’s release.

Taking it at face value, the film is too laid back, self-satisfied and, despite the intrigue of the stolen tape, flimsy in its plotting. That makes it less than “A Hard Days Night” and “Yellow Submarine” but really, the easy-going nature of the project isn’t a deal killer and shouldn’t be for McCartney’s fans.

Yes, this is among the most lightweight mysteries I can think of and the plot should have been developed before the start of filming. However, it’s also never pretentious or heavy handed.

What we know: McCartney had planned to make the film for years.

FAST FACT: “Give My Regards to Broad Street” earned an anemic $1.3 million at the global box office.

It was originally planned as an anti-war film based on McCartney’s “Tug of War” and written by Tom Stoppard (!). Eventually, the anti-war theme was dropped for the faux doc angle.

McCartney wrote a 22-page screenplay (since one page equals a minute of screen time, McCartney’s initial draft hardly suggests a fully developed film, let alone a substantial running time). Weber claims that McCartney didn’t want to make a movie but a one-hour TV special and that, in essence. there was no script.

The soundtrack, unlike the film, was a blockbuster, with the hit (and still wonderful) “No More Lonely Nights” allegedly written by McCartney over a weekend (“Ballroom Dancing” and “Wanderlust” are also on the soundtrack but were recently published songs).

I’m not entirely clear on the ending – was the whole thing a dream? Maybe so, perhaps an indication of how overly laid back the whole thing is.

There are some curious touches, like the elaborate dance scene where a massive brawl breaks out – look for the Michael Jackson lookalike mime (a reference to the “Say Say Say” music video?) who steals one number.

McCartney’s puppy-dog good looks and what-me-worry performance are an innocuous put-on. Rarely has such a genius, let alone the star of a movie, appeared so carefree.

Yet, as much as this doesn’t connect, the music is terrific. Watching McCarthy and Ringo Starr in the recording studio together is always a treat. So is seeing early work from Bryan Brown and Tracey Ullman, who make strong impressions, but little comes of their characters.

In his final film role, the great Sir Ralph Richardson appears as a landlord… feeding his pet monkey.

When it’s just performance footage, “Give My Regards to Broad Street” delivers for McCartney’s fans. I love “No More Lonely Nights” (and even the dance remix that plays over the end credits), but the terrific MTV video that accompanied the film’s release served it better than the actual movie.

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On the other hand, the famous sketch puppet TV series, “Spitting Image” featured a waiter delivering a film can to McCartney’s table and stating, “Your turkey, sir.”

Had the plot been given as much attention as the music, this could have been truly special. Considering it’s a race-against-time mystery, there’s no suspense and the wrap up is lazy. If the intent was to make a “one-man Hard Day’s Night,” then it comes up short.

Still, when the songs take center stage, it works.

Oddly enough, the scenes where McCartney is, for some reason, in a Jack the Ripper period piece are the most promising – McCartney looks right for the part.

Books on McCartney describe the film as “unwatchable” and “excremental.” One critic in Florida deemed the film “safer than sleeping pills and cheaper than a lobotomy.”

Oh please.

First of all, even as a vanity project, “Give My Regards to Broad Street” is entertaining and certainly has appeal for McCartney’s fans. Also, if we’re going to compare it to other pop musicals of that era that failed, Webb’s film is worlds better than “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” “Can’t Stop the Music,” “Xanadu,” “Grease 2,” and “The Apple,” all of which range from an embarrassing folly to truly embarrassing.

An element of the film that most agreed on at the time (aside from the success of the soundtrack album) is the inclusion of the “Rupert Bear and the Frog Song” cartoon, the Paul and Linda project that can be traced back to ’68 and The Beatles’ dream to create art for children.

Yes, it’s self-indulgent, too silly to take seriously as a thriller and doesn’t have enough narrative structure to fully pull us into its paper-thin story.

As a reflection of the then-new MTV era, it’s a fine music video, albeit one with story angles and cool moments that fade away in a dreamlike haze. “Give My Regards to Broad Street” is too loose and precious to defend as a great movie, but even a trifle like this has its entertainment value.

McCartney didn’t find an ideal vehicle here, but he came close.

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